Final Fantasy VIII: Saturday Night
by Darker Scorpio
Summary: Every Saturday night, it's the same story. They take me off of my couch, doll me up, and drag me out to yet another bar for the evening. Maybe tonight will be different. I guess we'll just have to find out. AU, Quall pairing Rating adjusted for language
1. It's the same story, week after week

Darker Scorpio presents:  
**Final Fantasy VIII – Saturday Night**

**Quick Disclaimer**: As per the norm, I do not own any characters, places, or intellectual property of Final Fantasy VIII, or anything else belonging to Square Enix. It would be nice if I did, though... Anyway, everything else is mine.

Why… why do I let them talk me in to these things? Every weekend, they con me in to going clubbing with them, without fail. You'd think by now, I would have learned, but sadly… no. It's the same story, week after week.

My weekend is a very precious thing! Week in and week out, I slave in the classroom for five days, hoping and praying that at least one of my students is actually learning. I realized long ago that these prayers were asking too much, and simply ask now that at least one of my students _pays attention_. So, when I finally have a night to myself, my only night I might add, I would love to simply relax and enjoy my quiet requiem.

I'm just such a sucker for my friends. I can't help it. Hyne, I sure as hell would love to be a horrible friend to them sometimes, on those nights where I really feel like crap and don't want to be seen… but I just can't. Those two… they beg and they plead with me, feeding me the saddest, most pathetic faces and excuses they can muster. Selphie could make a career out of it. And Rinoa… well, Rinoa can guilt a beggar in to giving _her_ money. How, then, am I supposed to turn them down?

So, once again, here I am, wading through a dense sea of undulating, faceless bodies, bouncing and wiggling to some ridiculous electronic beat blaring through the oversized subwoofers. What happened to the good days of music, when it was played on _real_ instruments? Well, I guess people can't dance mindlessly to music they have to think about. Heaven forbid!

Yeah, sure, I could mindlessly dance with them, writhing to the pounding beat. I very easily could. But if I do that, Selphie and Rinoa win, and I just can't have that. They do make it look so easy; I can't deny that. I'm not even sure how to describe the advanced technique they employ on the dance floor. After all, the shear skill it takes to raise your hands above your head and jump in rhythm as Selphie does is staggering! Oh, and let us not forget the gyrating hips of our darling Rinoa that are practically grinding on the nearest desperate male looking for female contact.

Ugh, I'm getting so cynical and… bitchy. Maybe those two are right. Maybe I do need to relax. That does seem to be their trademark persuasion method of removing me from the evenings I always have planned for myself: a couch, sweat pants, and regularly scheduled late night programming. And, like a sucker, I fall for it every time.

Selphie will pop-up first with her usual pep talk, cheerleading me in to a night of festivities: "Oh, c'mon Quisty! Things are so much better in threes! Without you, Rinoa and I are just a boring ol' duet."

Rinoa isn't far behind, following her part to a tee, attempting a blend of humor and innuendo. "Selphie's right, Quisty. We can't have a ménage a trios without you." Naturally, she follows with a playful wink and a smirk, for the added reassurance that she's 'just kidding.'

I play my part with the rest of them, even though tonight is simply another rerun. I protest, claiming to have my night already planned, or I'm in no mood to go out, or I look hideous, or I'm tired, or any combination of the above. I like to add some variety. Keeps things fresh.

This is where the story always turns the most repetitive. This part of the play is crucial to everyone's part, so proper rehearsal is always necessary. Both girls will grab my arms, pull me up from whatever surface I'm sitting on, and plead their respective cases to me yet again. You'd think by now they'd learn new material, but then again there's no sense in changing a working system. If it ain't broke, I guess.

Rinoa, ever the free spirit, promises me a night of freedom and laughter, nothing but a relaxing atmosphere and an environment to free my mind and let everything go. "Besides, Quisty, you never know when you'll run in to your Mr. Right one of these nights. You don't want to spend every night home alone forever, do you?"

See what I mean? Guilt. It's the same every time, but it always brings a familiar sting with it. Okay, sure… Rinoa's right. I haven't had a date in… well, a long time. So what? I'm busy. I have a stable, although demanding career that requires a lot of my attention. If I had the time to go out and date, I would use it.

…wow, even I don't believe that. Fine. Rinoa one, Quistis zero.

Ah, now is the best part. Here is where the girls multitask. Having fulfilled her role, Rinoa removes herself, relocating to my closet and searching for the playfully skimpy though tastefully attractive outfit I'll be wearing tonight. As she does this, Selphie resumes where her ally left off.

"Rinoa's right. After all, that's how I met my Irvykins, and you know how happy we are together!" Ah, the Irvine defense. It's a recent tactic, but a very effective one. It was a month ago she met her urban cowboy, and Selphie uses every day, and night, to remind us all of it. How inventive, and, at the same time, a low blow. I know she never means it as such, but it almost feels like Selphie rubs her lover boy in our faces, reminding me just how lonely I am. "The same thing can happen for you, Quisty, but it won't if you just sit around here all night! Now get off that sexy ass of yours and get movin'!"

So, without fail, I cave to the guilt of their repetitive but legitimate arguments. How can I protest? Sometimes, I try, but then things get worse. It's then that the pouting eyes and pleading tones of voice surface, and I just can't take it. They'll drop to their knees, bringing themselves as close to tears as possible, using every last trick in the book. It always breaks me. It's sad. Ugh, I'm such a sucker for the puppy-dog eyes. It's all of these underhanded yet creative modes of persuasion that bring me here, without fail, every week.

A drink. That's what the evening is missing. Lucky for me, our nocturnal expeditions always bring us to a local club or bar, so alcohol is never too far away. Besides, I've got a headache tonight and what better medicine is there than a nice, hard drink. Sure, the headache is coming from the droning techno beat and haze of smoke of said bar, but life wouldn't be complete without irony.

Now, my plan is completely dependant on my ability to weave through the tangled mess of a crowd that surrounds me. It is no easy task. Every time, Selphie drags from the door her on to the dance floor, telling me not to be such a stick in the mud. She'll pull me to my feet, throw me in a giant crowd, and bounce around me and against me, cheering and giggling the whole time. And that is _before_ she starts drinking.

I don't even know what happens to Rinoa after we make it inside the dark, smoke-filled bar. Every once in a while, I'll catch a glimpse of some flowing black hair, hanging discreetly over her face, protecting her ambiguity as she mindlessly shoves herself against an intoxicated stranger. It's like a game for her; at least that's how I see it.

But, that's not my concern at the moment. The only thing I want is to get around some overweight jackass in a muscle shirt blocking my path to the bar. I really would like to know who convinces these people that the blob staring back at them in the mirror is actually attractive to the fairer sex. A beer gut folding over skin-tight leather pants and an undersized white tank top crowned with a balding scalp of thin brown hair just isn't my type. I guess I'm too picky.

Ah, finally. The sea of hormones and self-illusions has been braved, and I have docked at the bar. Flagging down the bartender for my whiskey sour will be another story. Yeah, sure, not the most feminine drink, but I like it. I'm not going to feign a liking for some ridiculous 'appletini' so a random schmuck can peg me as a giggly lightweight to prey on. I like my whiskey. It's about the only good thing I get out of these nights.

"Hey baby… whatcha drinkin' tonight?"

Oh, Hyne, here we go. Though, I do have to say, tonight has been near record-breaking for the length of time I've gone without having some hopeless fool try to hit on me. It had to happen eventually. Meh… I guess I should humor him until one of us gets bored.

"Nothing yet. Bartender is… occupied." That was a nice way of putting it. In reality, the barkeep was doing his best to fend of a drunken whore trying to worm a free drink out of him. Poor guy. I can almost relate with my recent situation.

Casanova interpreted my nondescript reply as an invitation and moved himself next to me, leaning his back and resting his elbows on the bar. Delightful. He's a cocky bastard. This should be entertaining, or endlessly painful.

"That's a shame. It really is. Any _smart_ man would be spending his attention on you instead of the slut he's stuck with."

Cute, Casanova. Not too bad. Things could be worse, I suppose. He's actually not too bad when compared to the status quo of this bar. Really, how many overweight and unattractive losers could populate a single place in one night? It's refreshing to look at someone and not have to resist my vomiting reflex.

This guy though, he isn't too shabby. Though blonde, which is never a favorite of mine, his green eyes nearly made up for it. On closer inspection, they must be contacts, because no eyes are ever that brightly colored. Looking at the rest of him, and the vanity that dripped off of his figure, color contacts are not too unreasonable. His blue polo was surely too expensive for the cheap cut of cotton that it is, and his pressed khakis surely fit the same bill. I guess I'll play the game for now, and see just how bad Casanova really is.

"And I guess you're one of those smart guys, huh?"

"Of course I am. The second I saw you, I knew you were worth my time to get to know."

Oh, not a good start Casanova. Two minutes of dialogue and you've already turned me off. Oh well, no big loss. Besides, he's too tall. And he's drinking cheap light beer. I really can't respect a man who goes to a bar and orders himself a _light beer_. Just buy a six pack and some porn and call it a night, saving me the trouble.

"So, what do you say? Let's get out of here so you can get to know me very well. Sound good, little lady?"

Oh yeah, this guy has bombed one-hundred percent. Now, I could let him down easy, with some white lie and an offhand remark, but where's the fun in that? Casanova needs an ego-check tonight. Eh, it's not like it matters. He'll just go running off to the drunken slut on the other side of the bar anyway. Though, it will be fun…

"Actually, this 'little lady' really has no intentions of getting to know any part of you, buddy. I came to this bar for a drink, and that's really all I intend to leave it with. So, before you try and persuade me any further, I'm not interested. Save your ego and move on, thanks."

Hmm, maybe that was a bit harsh.

"Damn, bitch, I was just trying to be friendly, but fuck you. I don't have to put up with this shit. Fuckin' relax already."

And, with a quick turn and extension of his middle finger, Casanova was gone. Nope. Not too harsh at all. That was just right.

Ah, good. The bartender has finally freed himself. Maybe now I can get my drink. I sure need it after that guy. It's amazing how charming people think they are, when in reality, they're just a drunken slob with limited coordination and zero game.

As much as I don't want to admit it, maybe he was right. Maybe I do need to just relax. I complain every week when the girls bring me here. I scare off any guys that actually try to approach me. A lot of them just try to talk with me, but I don't give them a chance. But they're all so… repulsive. I can't help it. I'm not like Rinoa. I can't just grind myself all over some stranger, especially not when they have an attitude like Casanova did.

Still… I'd be lying if I told myself his words didn't hurt a little bit. It's hardly the first time some pissed off guy cursed me out after I rejected him, but I guess I was actually listening this time. Am I really such a bitch? I guess I do act a little cold to the guys here. Okay, really cold. Alright, I'm a bitchy ice queen. Wow… it hurts a lot more when I actually _admit_ it.

Whatever. I can worry about that later. A fresh whiskey sour is finally sitting in front of me, and I can't wait for it any longer. Anything to help soothe this damn headache. I mean, seriously, who can listen to nothing but techno continuously and not hurt themselves?

"Sure enough, here she is."

Well this is a change. Rinoa searched _me_ out. Why am I feeling this sense of doom, mixed with familiar guilt? Quickly, more whiskey to ease the oncoming pain! I'd better put up a good defense, or I'm done for.

"Yup, you found me. It must have been quite an extensive search. That must have been what you were doing with all those guys on the dance floor: interrogating them in the hopes of finding me. If that's the case, you were searching your ass off out there." Wow… okay, I didn't think before I said that one. I guess I am just a bitch tonight.

"Quistis, are you okay? You seem really… edgy tonight. You're not even trying to get out and have fun. Plus, I saw you with that tall guy earlier. You could have been a _little_ nicer to him."

Despite her misinterpretation of Casanova's intent, Rinoa seems genuinely concerned. This isn't normal. Usually, she's too busy with herself and the music all night, only finding me and Selphie when she's finished 'getting her groove on.' Am I really in that noticeable of a bad mood tonight?

"It was nothing, Rin. He was bothering me, and I didn't feel like dealing with him. Like I tried to tell you guys earlier, I'm just tired tonight."

"But you always say that Quisty. Every time we go out, you always say 'oh, I'm so tired guys,' but we drag you out here and you still have fun with us. C'mon, tell me what's wrong, Quisty."

I don't know what to tell her. If there is something wrong with me, I sure don't know what it is. I thought I was fine tonight, but I guess that's not the case. At least that's what I'm being told. Maybe if I just shrug it off and ignore the problem it will go away. That usually works. But this is _Rinoa_…

"Alright, fine Quisty. If you won't come willingly, I'll just have to force you to have a good time." I don't trust that smile she's giving me.

"C'mon, sexy babe, I'll show you just how easy it is to pick up a guy and have a good time. Watch the master at work. Rather, the _mistress_ at play." Okay, I really don't trust that wink she just gave me.

But, this should be interesting, if nothing else. I get to watch the master – excuse me, _mistress_ – hard at work in her element. Should I be taking notes right now? After all, she is trying to teach me how to have a good time. I guess I'm just such a boring dud that I don't know how to have fun myself.

Alright, she's found her victim. Little does he know what's in store for his evening. Not a bad choice, though: a trademark tall, dark, and handsome. The long chestnut bangs draping over his face is a nice touch, and the black T-shirt has a nice contrast to that light-colored skin. Okay, Rin, good choice. Oh, of course, one more wink to me, just to make sure I'm watching. The hunt continues.

The only thing that could make this better is if I could actually hear what lines she's feeding the poor guy to get him up and dancing. Alas, the thumping trance beat prevents me from hearing any conversation that isn't a foot in front of me. It's a shame, because things are developing quite humorously.

What's this? The guy _doesn't_ want to dance with Rinoa? He's… he's turning her down? Now I really wish I was over there, just so I could here the surprised and annoyed tone in the Princess's voice. How could anyone turn down Rinoa? She's every man's dream, or so she likes to believe. In her defense, it's not as if anyone gives her reason to believe otherwise. But this guy… from the look of it, he's challenging Rinoa's entire belief structure with nothing more than a nonchalant shrug.

There's no point in hiding the laughter now, it's just too good. Poor Rin… she's quite angry now. The dark stranger has yet to budge. So strange, I thought guys loved it when women irately demanded them to dance. I guess not. Maybe Rinoa's lesson is meant to teach me what _not _to do, because here patented method doesn't seem to be working.

Okay, this isn't good. She's taking it way too far now. People around her are starting to stare and laugh themselves, and the poor man looks like he's ready to blow up on her. I can't blame the guy, there's a boderline psychotic woman tugging incessantly at his arm, demanding that he leave his stool and drink to dance with her. Alright, alright… time to end this. I'd rather leave with a little dignity than get thrown out.

"Rinoa, it's okay, leave it alone. I think I've seen all I need to see." I can only hope that the hand on her shoulder and my embarrassed excuse is enough to get her to stop.

"Tch, fine. You're right Quisty: his loss. I'm going back out to the dance floor to find someone _else_ who isn't just a big jerk." That last part seemed to be directed at the poor guy instead of me, as was her defiant turn of the heel to run off. Good job, Quistis, you saved the day. I'm a regular hero. Well, if nothing else, I and the people around me got a few good laughs from the situation.

"…thank you."

Hmm? Oh, it was the stranger. I guess Rinoa had been much more of a distress than he let on.

"Oh, yeah, sure… Rinoa, she can just be a little…"

"Yeah, I noticed that."

He's funny. I wasn't expecting that. Rinoa sure can pick a good one, even if he wants nothing to do with her. Now that I'm standing next to him, I can see just how good a pick he is. That dark hair was hiding some beautiful blue eyes, and there is no question that they are real. I'd kill to have eyes that blue. Very defined features, in his face and body. He's built like a Marine. The only flaw on his body is that massive scar running down between his eyes. Yet, even that didn't take away from his… well, beauty. It almost added character, proving that this god was indeed human. Wow…

"Well, I'll just be goin'… I'll see you around…"

Wait… what am I doing? This is just what Rinoa and Selphie are always talking about.

'_Jeez, Quistis, what are you always waiting for? You never approach any guys, and when they finally come to you, you send them off in search of their dignity, or worse. You keep this up, and your elusive Mr. Right will either sit waiting forever, or run off scared.'_

'_Rinny is right. You need to go wild, take some chances, and just plain go nuts! Woo! I mean, if nothing else, talk to someone and give them a chance. You never know, you could land you a winner like I did with Irvy…'_

I guess they're right. If I just sit around all night like I always do, I'll end up with a light buzz and a pile of excuses. Maybe I should… take a chance. I don't know about going nuts quite yet, but maybe…

"Actually, would you mind if I, um, joined you? I promise I'm nothing like my friend. I'm fully aware that no means no."

Oh, Hyne, I'm such a dork. What was I even saying? Wow, way to make a great impression on the guy. I'm sure by now he's wondering what this blonde nerd is doing still talking to him. This was stupid. I should just go back to-

"Yeah, have a seat. Some normal company may be nice."

…oh. Well, alright then. I guess I'm not as socially awkward as I thought I was. He actually invited me to sit down with him. Maybe I'm not so bad at this. Yeah, this isn't so bad. But… now what do I do? It's been so long since I haven't turned a guy down, let alone approached one.

"I'm Squall, and I'm drinking a Guinness Extra Stout."

Well, that certainly is a simple way of handling an introduction. I like it. It's to the point, and explains a lot in only a few words. Someone's drink can tell you a lot about them, and Squall's drink of choice was a good one. Nothing fancy, but still high quality. I wonder what he'll think of my choice…

"I'm Quistis, and I'm drinking a whiskey sour," I say, lifting up my glass as if to prove it.

Unexpectedly, Squall clinks his bottle with my glass in a silent "cheers." Oh, this guy is good. I know nothing about him except his name and his vice of choice, yet he's got my full attention. I guess he's just my type. Wait, I have a type now? Huh… I guess so.

"What are you doing here, Quistis?"

"Oh, same old thing every week. My friends bring me out here every Saturday night, draggin' me out here while they go off and dance their hearts out."

"You always end up rescuing your friend's train wrecks?"

"Hah, not always, no. You just seemed like you needed my help tonight. Rinoa can be very… well, you saw."

"So you came over to save me, huh? A regular knight in shining armor?"

Oh Hyne, I have never seen a smile that enticing before! That look in his eyes, and that tiny but devilish grin, it's like he's going to devour me right here. Though, from the looks of things, I wouldn't complain if he did. Wow, either that whiskey is starting to kick on, or Squall is just that good.

"Yes, sir. I'm a regular hero in disguise, protecting the world from the tipsy pursuits of Rinoa the Ruthless."

I'm flirting with him. I'm honestly, truly flirting with Squall, a man I've known for less than ten minutes. Was this Rinoa's plan all along? Was entire scheme just to get me talking to the handsome stranger at the bar? I'll have to ask her later. Right now, I think I'll pay more attention to the fingers that are trailing along my hand. Wow, it got really warm in this bar…

"Well, on those slow nights where the world needs not your rescuing, where do you find yourself?

"I guess you'll find me at home, either settling in for a relaxing night with regularly scheduled programming, or reviewing the latest batch of assignments my children handed me. I teach at Balamb High, so I'm not usually left with much time to myself."

Is this how it works? I meet someone in a bar, share a couple laughs, and divulge all of my personal information to him. Meanwhile, his hand is dancing over mine and sending little shocks through my arm and I can't stop looking at his eyes. Whatever we're doing, I like it. Maybe a hand on his arm and a seductive smile will keep his attention.

"But what about you, my rescued damsel… what does a man like you do when he's not acting as bait to my attention-hungry friends?"

He laughed. That's a good sign. I'm keeping him interested.

"Nothing fancy. I'm stuck in some single-windowed office as a public relations representative for Garden Industries. Pays well, but filing claims reports and conversing with irate customers all afternoon is hardly so glamorous."

"I suppose it's no wonder how you handled my friend so well now. You do it every day."

"Tell me about it. I come here to forget about those people, but they seem to seek me out."

We're both laughing now. Wait, how long have I been squeezing his bicep, and when did his palm move to my knee? No point in complaining, though. His arm is near rock solid and that hand on my leg… well, I'm certainly in no mood to complain about that any more.

Wait… what happens now? Do we just keep flirting until we get tired and move on, or what? Am I supposed to be giving him my number? Do I invite him to my place for 'coffee' and ultimately an invitation to my bedroom? Is that what I want from this? I don't know. How long have I been mentally panicking without outwardly saying anything? Too long. Oh, this is bad. He looks confused.

"Sorry… just lost in thought. To be perfectly honest, I have no idea what I'm doing. I haven't talked to a guy like this in… well, a very long time. I don't really know how to go about all of this."

"Okay, we can keep things simple. In short, I've enjoyed your company, and wouldn't mind more of it in the future. Would you say the same for me?"

Hell yes! I haven't had a conversation this interesting or exciting since… well, too long! This has been one of the greatest nights in my life in years, and I'd love for it to never end. But, maybe such a large does of honesty would scare Squall away. I'll stick with a simple nod.

"Glad to hear it. Once we finish our banter, we'll no doubt leave this place. I know I personally can't stand all this ridiculous music."

Thank Hyne! Someone else agrees with me.

"Now, two things will happen at this point. Either we will go our separate ways, having names and contact information, or one of us will follow the other one home, continuing the festivities for however long we desire. So, once you reach your decision, let me know. In the mean time, I'll get us each another drink."

It's as if he knew exactly what to say to put me at ease, or as much as anyone could. It's hard to play a game you don't know all the rules to, and Squall very precisely explained everything I needed to know. Sure, I feel better about the situation now, but what do I do?

So, as I sit here, sipping on my freshened drink and staring at the Adonis next to me, I can't help but wonder what to do. I mean, I'm certainly not the type of woman to meet a guy and go home with him the first night… but looking at Squall, I want to be. He's so… real. He's not an ego-driven moron, searching for a quick fuck. No, he's certainly not a moron. He's funny, and witty, all the while mysterious and seductive. I can't turn that down. Hyne, no woman with half a sex drive could!

Nothing says I have to actually sleep with him anyway. He doesn't seem like he's expecting it from me. I'm sure that Squall has no intentions of rushing any decision. He seemed legitimately interested with our conversation, and not just a prospect of tearing my clothes off. He's realistic, yet another quality about him that pulls me closer. Speaking of which, I am sitting really close to him. When did I slide up along side him? Wow, no wonder he extended an invitation to his place.

Still, I can't help but feel anxious about this. I've just met this man. How can I immediately run home with him? Maybe this is why Rinoa and Selphie love doing this, meeting strangers and dancing around each others' wordplay. I know I'm just about tripping over my own adrenaline. It's a rush, and I'd be lying to say I'm not enjoying it. Besides, what do I have to lose? Yeah, sure, a lot. So what? I think I can trust this guy. He's given me no reason to think otherwise.

Who am I kidding? I knew my decision a long time ago, and I'm ready to go. But, since I'm already pressed up against his side, let's make things interesting.

"…you're place or mine?" I whisper to him, making sure to let my lips brush his ear as I do so.

**Author's Notes: **Hey. How's it goin'? So, yeah, this was just something quick thing I sat down and wrote last night. I have my best ideas after two in the morning. Long story short, I really don't have any plans for... well, anything else. If I get some good feedback, I'll do a follow-up or something. We can see what happens once they leave the bar, or something. Whatever. Hope you like it.

Courtesy your Darker neighborhood Scorpio


	2. Not what I would have predicted

Darker Scorpio presents:**  
Final Fantasy VIII – Saturday Night, pII**

**Quick Disclaimer**: As per the norm, I do not own any characters, places, or intellectual property of Final Fantasy VIII, or anything else belonging to Square Enix. It would be nice if I did, though... Anyway, everything else is mine.

Hm. Interesting. Of all of the possible outcomes to this situation, I would never have predicted her to take the initiative. Yet, here I am, my ear still tingling slightly from the foreign contact, looking upon this playful blonde, toying with the rim of her glass. No, this is not what I would have predicted in the least.

Oh no, I have no reason to complain. I haven't had this much fun playing the game in a long time, and Quistis seems to be a natural. I've pretty much sealed it, so why do I have this nagging in my mind? There are no signals left to read: her legs are constantly brushing mine, she's been touching arm every chance she gets, and that little curl of her lips post-invitation tells me I've done my job. So why the fuck can't I ignore this damn moral bastard in my mind shouting to do the right thing? Damn.

"Tell me… do you really mean that? Or, do you just think that's what I want you to say? After all, that is one hell of a cliché you just dropped, and you don't strike me as any form of cliché."

Okay, it seems that is not the reply she was expecting. Damnit. I was doing so well, and now I have to go and blow it because I have a sudden urge to be a good person. Hopefully that lame and desperate attempt for a compliment redeemed my case. Ugh, "any form of cliché?" I'm better than that.

"Well… yes, I meant it. I mean, well, I'm pretty sure I mean it."

Okay, she's a little insecure now, but she's still sitting here. She sounds a little offended, but she's still here. She's not ready to jump me anymore, but she's still here. I can salvage this mess. Maybe while I'm doing it I can pretend it's not to justify this nagging morality to do the right thing.

"And there's my point. Don't get me wrong, there's not a man in the world that would sanely turn down such an invitation," or so I'd like to think, "but even you're not sure if that's what you want to do. Am I right, or should I be apologizing?

"…no, you're right."

Alright, I think I have this under control again. I wish I knew why I cared so much. Any other night I wouldn't have blinked a second time at such a suggestive request. Hyne knows I need to get laid. I've spent too much time in this shithole not to. Yet… there's something different here. There's a subtle undertone in Quistis' voice, a faint hint of reality that demands… respect. Fuck, alright, let's see if I can't relax her.

"Tell me, you aren't like your friends, are you? This… kind of thing is not your usual playing field, is it?"

Good, good… talk about her friends, taking the pressure off, yet appealing to her individuality, making her comfortable. Those psych classes are still paying off. She's laughing a little. Even better.

"No, this is nowhere close to my 'playing field.' Is it that obvious?"

"Undoubtedly. It's your honesty. You're a genuine character, while the world around us is fake. They live their lives, oblivious to their own truths, let alone the truths of the blind souls they choose to mingle with. In a short time, they become one sea of undulating limbs and anonymity. No one here is real… except you."

Wow. That was good, even for me. Though, I think I should be more concerned with the fact that I actually meant it. That wasn't some line to act as bait, keeping the catch on the hook for just a little longer. I'm actually being honest in return with her. No, something is not right here. Fuckin' conscience. Whatever, she's smiling again. Regardless of why, this is what I want.

"That being said, it does not befit you to speak or act like the faceless crowd. It doesn't fit, and even you can tell that you don't sound like everyone else, no matter how hard you try. Believe me, it's a good thing."

Huh? Oh, look at that, she's got a hand on mine again. Outstanding. Wait, what's with that look she's giving me? That's not lust. I'm quite familiar with that look, but this is far from it. Her eyes, they feel… warm. Very weird, but hey, I'll take it. Besides, she does have great eyes.

"Are you even trying to be this charming, or does it just come naturally to you?"

Charmed. That's the word I need for her eyes. Charmed.

"I don't try to do anything. I just am the person I have always been, and act accordingly."

Or so I thought. The person I am doesn't flinch when a woman inviters herself upon me. So who the fuck am I now? Whatever. I already know I'm not getting laid tonight, so I can at least salvage this encounter and get a number out of it. I can settle for getting laid later. Besides, she's perked back up from the blow to her ego. If nothing else, she stimulates my intellect.

"Oh no, I'm not buying that. You're hardly that innocent."

I'm sorry, beg your pardon?

"No, Squall, no one who can read people like you do is simply just 'the person they are.' You're playing me, like you do everyone else. The only difference is I can see that you're doing it. So, try again."

Huh. Now I'm the speechless one. And I here I was thinking I had things back under my control.

"I'm sorry, and just what does that mean?" Okay, I need to figure out just how good _she_ is. Oh, quit grinning and just answer my question already. Fuck, I need another beer.

"What's not to understand? This is a game you play. Don't get me wrong; you've got me snared, and I don't plan on leaving at any time. But, that doesn't mean I'm about to blindly fall for this routine. I'm calling you out, so try again."

What the hell is this? Five minutes ago, I was doing my best to keep her from fleeing from a broken ego, and now she's on the offensive, calling me a player. This is what I get for being a 'good person'? No wonder I never fucking do it.

Well, what now, genius?

"Relax, Squall! I told you it doesn't bother me. I'm just playing the game back."

"…whatever."

"Wow, you can't stand losing control, can you? I bet that's why you play these games, isn't it? It's not to get yourself some hot chick every night. You do it to fulfill your need for control."

What the FUCK just happened?! Okay, suddenly, this isn't fun anymore. I'm fucking pissed off now. Except… I'm not. Seriously? Any other person that has called me out like that and I would be attacking every insecurity they possessed until they broke. Any other person and I'd be walking away right now. Any other person and I'd… well, alright; I guess I did just tell her that she's not like any other person. Fair enough. Finally, my damn beer.

Okay, I stalled long enough. She's waiting for a response, and every second that I sit here silent only makes her stupid grin bigger. The usual lines aren't going to work. No, she won't buy any of them. Apparently, she can already read me and know when I'm full of shit. Alright, fine. Honesty it is.

"Yeah, I guess I do like control. It's better to be the one in power than to be blindly following along like everyone else. I don't like that feeling."

"What feeling? To be powerless?"

"…yeah. Why, are you gonna tell me it's a good thing to feel powerless?"

"No, of course not, Squall. Feeling powerless is a horrible thing. But, there's a difference from losing all of your control, and surrendering it."

What the hell is the difference? No matter how you word it, you end up with no control over your own life. I'm not about to let someone else control the direction my life will take. It's _my_ life, no one else's.

Wait a minute… I see what's happening here. How annoyingly ironic that I have zero control right now. She's playing me. Wow, I completely underestimated her. Somehow, she's managed to get me pouring out my feelings like I'm lying on a leather couch and paying her a hundred bucks an hour. Damn, I'll never tell her this, but I'm pretty sure I've just met my match. Hah, no, forget that. No way. She's close, but not that good.

"Fair enough, Quistis, but I think we've strayed very far from our original conversation." Good. Concede defeat and retreat to higher ground. Gain the upper hand again. "Last I recall, this discussion was about you, and just what it is that you really want out of this."

Your move.

"Well, since we're so devoted to honesty now, I have no idea. This is the first time since… okay, this is _the_ first time I've ever approached a guy in a bar, and held a conversation with him, and made him spill his dark secrets."

Thanks for the reminder.

"So, when it comes to making a decision about the future of this interaction, I'm still not sure. Like I told you earlier: I have no idea what I'm doing. Really, I've only been following your lead, hoping I'd figure it out. So, if you don't mind, I think I'll let you continue leading. I trust you."

Perfect. I can do whatever it is I want now. With that little confession, the power has shifted back to me. The way this is playing out, I could probably redeem myself and have her in bed before either of us can sober up. If only I could let myself…

"How about this: we each get one more drink, and we keep talking and analyzing each other like we're playing some dirty game of chess. Once we each finish that last drink and hit a lull in the conversation, it will be my turn to lean in and ask if you want to go back to my place. At that point, I should hope you'll have made your own decision, and we shall go from there. Sound fair?"

"No."

Wait, what?

"Make it two drinks. I'm having too much fun to let this end so quickly."

Hah, nice. Alright, this is better. We're returned to the fun, flirtatious banter from earlier. It'll be too soon if we go back to that Freudian shit. This is much better. Well, it seems she's picking up this round. Fair enough. If they lady wants to pay, I won't tell her no. Hell, I doubt I'd say no to anything she wants. Wow, really?

Who am I kidding? There's no way I'm going to fuck her tonight. Yeah, I know I can, and she'd be willing, and it would be great. Anyone watching us can see that's the direction this is going. But, no. No, for some reason, I'm not going to let that happen. Instead, I'm going to get her number, go home, and call her later for another date. The only thing I don't understand is why I'm going to do that. This sudden morality is so damn frustrating.

Maybe it's because she's not like the usual crowd. Maybe it's because she can disarm me and catch me off guard. She's an oddity. She's unique. Maybe that's why I won't insult her by treating her like the common public. Fuck, even that doesn't make sense to me. It's been, what, twenty, thirty minutes, and it feels like I… like I _like_ this woman. Something is not right with me.

But that doesn't make any sense. People don't meet and instantly connect. That's bullshit. It's a cute ploy for movies and daytime soaps, not the real world. No, people aren't designed for that. We meet, we interact, we move on. Eventually, we end up leaving for one reason or another. It's human nature. We feed our basic drives and that's it. Eat, sleep, fuck, repeat. No, this can't be right.

But for some insane reason, she has me infatuated. Sure, I've known some great blondes, and fucked most of them. Quistis is better than most of them, though. Easy. It is, once again, her subtlety. Yes, she's wearing a short, black skirt and a crimson blouse, but they're not some blatant outcry of "fuck me." It's tasteful. It makes those smooth legs seem longer, that slight line of cleavage even more enticing. She looks like the school teacher she is, yet I'm staring at her more than the naked sluts dancing ten feet away from me. No, something is definitely not right.

"Y'know, the conversation was your idea. The least you could do is actually talk."

"Huh?"

"You've been in your own little world for the last minute or so. I've been sipping on a fresh drink just watching you stare at nothing, wondering what's going on in that head of yours."

Have I really? Oh, Hyne I have been. I've been sitting here stoic and silent, contemplating whatever the fuck is happing in my head while she's been waiting patiently right next to me. Fuck, I'm a moron. And, once again, she's laughing at my expense. Great. Y'know, it doesn't really matter how cute she is covering her mouth as she giggles, I still feel like a jackass.

"…sorry. Got lost in my own game." That wasn't even a lie.

"I'm sure that's bound to happen from time to time. So, a gil for your thoughts?"

Hey, wait a minute… Didn't we just sidestep this 'admit your feelings' junk? I thought I was done sharing for the night. Then again, a little more honesty couldn't hurt, especially if I tell it just right and drop a few good lines.

"Nothing to exciting really. Just analyzing the situation. I do that a lot." Good, keep it vague. Bait her in to it.

"Well, what are you analyzing right now?" Perfect. Trap set.

"Mostly, I was looking at you and I realized that-"

"Damnit. Hold that thought and brace yourself. Trouble's coming."

Wait, what? What the fuck does that mean?

"Quisty, what are you still doing here with _him_?"

Ah. Question answered. The Princess has returned, apparently still stinging from my denial. This should be really fun. Suddenly, I find my buzz to be too weak to dull the pain.

"Please, don't tell me you've been sitting here the whole time! Not with this loser."

Really, are the glare, _and_ the stuck-out tongue, _and_ the L-shaped fingers on the forehead necessary? I get the point: you don't like me. Trust me, the feeling is very mutual. Now, please, go away. You're much more entertaining when you're not here.

"Actually, Rin, yes. Squall and I have been chatting for a while."

"Oh Hyne, really Quisty? What could he possibly have to talk about? He's just some dumb scrub here to get drunk in a bar, too stupid to notice a good thing when it walks right up to him."

Really? You sure about that?

"Rin, c'mon, knock it off. You already made a scene once. Don't do it again."

"Fine. Anyway, c'mon, get off that butt and come dance with me. The guys here tonight are almost as big of losers as _some people_ I know. Come dance with me, please?"

Damn, does incessantly tugging on someone's arm ever work for this girl? Fuck, go away. Things were going great, and you just had to show up again. Leave your friend alone. Obviously, she's perfectly content here. With me. Not you. Go away. Now.

"Rin, leave Quisty be! Geeze, you always act so weird, ya know?"

Hm, I guess this is one of the other friends. Hyne, please let her be tolerable. Well, if nothing else, she has calmed the beast that is Rinoa. Now, please, both of you go away and let us enjoy this night in peace. Go. Now. Please. Your friend Quistis is giving me a very apologetic look and silently mouthing words accordingly. She doesn't want you here either. Be gone.

"Anyway, Quisty, who is this hunky stud you're sitting next to anyway? It's not often we actually see you around a guy in here for longer than a minute before he runs away to find his pride. So, c'mon, spill it! Who is he? Huh? HUH?!"

Wow… now I'm not sure which friend is worse.

"Selphie, this is Squall… uh…"

Oh. I guess we never did exchange surnames. Well, I can play this off. At least I can get one of her friends on my good side. Last thing I need are two women cock-blocking me.

"Leonhart, but just Squall is fine. Nice to meet you, Selphie."

"Well then, Squall, it's a supreme pleasure to meet you! How have you taken to our dear Quisty? Does she strike your fancy? Do you like her? Ya love her? Gonna shack-up and start makin' babies?!"

"Selphie, please!"

"Oh, please, as if he would. This guy is just a giant bastard. I don't know how Quisty can even stand being around him. Let's go."

"Rinoa!"

"Really, Rinny, he can't be that bad. Besides, I just met Squally here. I barely know him. So, whatcha like, Squall? What do you do? Oh, wow, that's a crazy scar! How'd you get that? What'd you do to piss off Rinoa so bad?"

"Selphie, stop it!"

"You know what he did, Selphie? I tried to show him a nice time and have him join me out on the dance floor, but the jerk just ignored me and turned me down! Seriously, let's get out of here, before he starts that crap on you, or Quisty, if he hasn't been treating her like crap already."

"Guys!"

Okay, yeah, I've had enough. I have to get out of here. There is no salvaging this situation. Rinoa was bad enough. She's bound and determined to run me in to the ground to 'protect' her friend. Even if I managed to get a word in, she'd just shut me down again and again, proclaiming to the world just how big of a jerk I am.

And as if that wasn't enough, there's the oblivious brunette. Sure, she's not attacking my character, but damn if she isn't a thorn in my side. She won't be satisfied until she has drilled me about every aspect of my personality, my childhood, my career, and my last breakfast while we're at it. Yeah, this act is nowhere near as harmless as it appears. Damnit, you both don't need to protect your friend. Besides, from the looks of it, she's just as annoyed as I am.

Whatever. I may as well go. There will be no penetrating this defense. I concede defeat. You two win. Take your friend home. I'll be on my way. Happy now?

"Well, Selphie, it was great to meet you. And, Rinoa, always a pleasure…" I had to. Pissing her off is going to become a fun game.

"…but, I think I will be taking off now. Quistis… looks like we'll have to have that second drink another time."

"No, Squall, please, you don't-"

"It's alright. I need to be on my way as it is."

"Really, you don't-"

"Quistis… if you keep insisting that I stay, I won't get a chance to slip my card in to your hand and promise that we'll have a second date before your friends… steal you away for the night."

Yup. It worked. She's sold. That's the smile I've watched all night, a telltale smile that I have worked my magic over and over again. Her friends are caught off guard, and that's all I need.

"Well, can't argue with that logic. I guess I'll be the one calling you, won't I?"

"Sure. I guess I can surrender just this little bit of control and let you set the next date."

That should do it. I've made my mark. Her friends are appeased. I made nice with Selphie, the relationship I could still salvage. Rinoa, meh, she's a lost cause. I'll be lucky if she ever tolerates me. But, this way, they both get what they want: Quistis' attention. Shame I had to leave so early. Now, I just need to find myself a cab and get my ass home. Ugh, fuck, was it this cold outside when I got here?

"Squall, wait a second!"

Huh? Quistis? She followed me outside? Okay, I was not expecting this…

"Look, my friends, they… I'm sorry. Just, don't get the wrong idea, okay? Please, I know they can scare off a lot of people…"

Oh, I see now. She's worried they scared me away. Well, yeah, they did, but only for the night. It'll take a lot more to shaken my long-term resolve. Fuck, I pity any man dumb enough to stay in that situation. I needed to get the hell out of there, but it'll take a whole lot more than that to get rid of me for good.

"Oh, them? I've seen worse. No, I really did need to get home."

"No you didn't."

Nope, can't fool this one at all. "Not in the least. But, do you even want to go back in there?"

"No… not really, but I have to… look, I just want to make sure-"

"Quistis. Call me. Set up a date. Just… don't bring the harpies next time."

Damn. Harpies was a bit much. No, never mind, she's laughing. I really must have set an impression with her, 'cause not only is she laughing with every joke I tell tonight, but right now, she has this look, and it's quite familiar to me. Next, she'll be leaning in. Yup, there it is. And next thing, she'll be… yup, her eyes are closing as her head tilts slightly. Damn, I set a really good impression. Nothing left to do but lean in and give her the kiss that she wants.

No… the kiss that we both want.

Okay, I give up. I'm done trying to figure things out. Fuck rationality, because that is out the window. There is something about this woman that calls out to me, and I will find out what it is. I had my doubts before, but this kiss is just… fuck, what am I doing? Why the hell am I analyzing this shit? Shut up and just enjoy the damn kiss!

"Mm… wow."

I had that same though… amongst many others.

"I'll call you, mmkay?"

Yeah… definitely do that. Now this is different. Normally, a hot woman walks away from me, and my mind is just filled with delightfully vulgar thoughts of how her ass moves as she walks, or bending her over and doing… well, a whole lot of other things besides watch her. Yet, I see Quistis walk away, and my only thought is that I wish she would turn around and smile one more time. Whatever, here's my cab.

Ugh, these things never smell anything above nauseating. I swear, you can spray all of the discount disinfectant you want, it will never mask the odor of vomit, shit, and shame. Good thing that little pine tree is hanging up front, though. Whew, if it wasn't for that, I'd be doubled over right now… whatever.

"Hey, buddy, I said where to?"

Huh? Fuck, I'm trapped in my head again.

"Sorry. Two-fourteen East Seventeenth. Twenty bucks extra if you drive without speaking."

An enthusiastic thumbs-up from the driver is all the confirmation I need to fall back in to myself. Hyne knows I have a lot of shit to figure out. Foremost of these problems is why the hell I'm suddenly such a nice and genuine guy, and why I'm not sitting next to my nightly play toy like usual. For how many years has my conscience taken a backseat to my excursions, and he picks tonight to show up? This isn't what I wanted. I just wanted the usual night, the mundane alcohol-and-endorphin-filled life I'm used to.

Then again, maybe this is what I really want after all. I guess I'll find out when Quistis calls.

**Author's Notes: **Hm... nearly two years. It took me nearly two years to finally update this thing. Well, better late than never. Granted, it's not my greatest work, but I like it. Tell me what you think. For all of you (all five or so) who have been asking for more, I now present it to you. Please enjoy. I've been playing to continue this for a while, but life has this nasty habit of getting in the way. Plus, my muse left me long ago... and that only further complicates things. Oh well. Regardless, as said, enjoy.

Which brings me to another point... a big reason I never update is my lack of original ideas. When I get one, I can write for hours, but I can never seem to get one. So, I will ask for this: ideas. If you'd like to see this story go in a certain direction, let me know. Or, if you'd like to see another idea for a different story played out completely, please, let me know and I'll get to writing.

Courtesy your Darker neighborhood Scorpio


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